Reiki and Other Blessings

Sunrise on March 8th, 2015

Thank you for your kind thoughts and words around Katie's 20th birthday. We had a lovely day - which is in itself a kind of miracle, considering the circumstances - including a beach walk, delicious brunch at Alchemy Bistro and Wine Bar in Port Townsend, and a movie, with popcorn for dinner. A truly "Katie" kind of day.

Toasting Katie at brunch

Last week, I had the pleasure of accompanying our friend Charlotte on a tour of Building Hope at Seattle Children's Hospital. You may recall that David and I had a brief tour of the building in November for the purpose of a photo shoot, featuring Katie's Comforters Guild in the Guild News.

A patient receiving her blanket from Katie's Comforters Guild, represented by yours truly

On Thursday, Charlotte and I toured the Emergency Department, Cancer Ward and the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit. This new building is a great advancement upon what was available to us during Katie's treatment eight years ago. It is absolutely state-of-the-art, in every way.

There were wonderful surprises for me on this day, as we were met by several staff members who had taken care of Katie at her most fragile: during chemotherapy, and after her 18-hour surgery. It was a pleasure to be able to introduce these gifted caregivers to our friend, and to have them explain to her what they do, and how the facilities in this new building make it possible to make patients and families even more comfortable during the most stressful time in their lives.

We ran into one of Katie's dear oncology nurses

I am grateful to Drs. Baden, Brogan, Jeffries and Mazur for their generosity with their time on Thursday. I'm also thankful for all that they and their colleagues have done (and are doing) to save children's lives, as well as to the nurses and technicians who support their work - and to the donors who made this building possible! It truly is a team effort.

Since taking first-degree (Shoden) Reiki in November, I have been practicing daily, and looking forward to taking the next class (Okuden, or second-degree). I was able to do this a couple of weekends ago through Emerald City Reiki in Seattle.

My certificate of completion, with gratitude to Reiki Master Claire O'Shea.

Reiki brings peace, balance, calmness and relief from physical problems such as pain, digestive upset, stress, insomnia and much more. The potential for healing seems unlimited. The more I read about it, the more I enjoy learning from its practice, for Reiki isn't something that one learns from reading; practice is the most important way to learn. I find it has given me a new way to pray for myself, and others; it has restored a language of prayer which I had lost, and enhanced it, by keeping it free from "dogma." This freedom leads to pure joy and love when practicing Reiki. I think of it as a manifestation of the Holy Spirit, or healing power of God. [If you have questions about it, one of the best books I've read is called "Reiki: A Comprehensive Guide" by Pamela Miles.]

Update on Grandma:  we now have a routine in place for supporting Gregg's parents. We all take turns bringing Grandpa Ed to see Grandma Elaine, sit beside her bed with him until he gets tired, and then take him back to his home in assisted living (we are still waiting for a bed to open for Elaine in the same facility where she and Ed have been living). Gregg visits his mother nearly every day after work.

I am thoroughly enjoying serving on the board of the Bainbridge Public Library. What an interesting and generous group of people! At each meeting, I learn new things, and am grateful for the kindness and sense of community spirit among the members. Last Friday was my first time helping to host an artist's exhibit during the "First Friday" Art Walk. We host a different artist in the Community Room of the library each month. This month, I'll take a class to qualify for a certificate which will allow me to serve wine at these events.

Field's End (a committee of the Bainbridge Public Library) continues to offer opportunities for growth and stimulation for writers in our community. This week, we're hosting a Story Slam at Treehouse Cafe on Bainbridge Island, and on March 20th, there will be an Open Mic at the Poulsbo branch of Kitsap Regional Library. A Travel Writing Workshop will be taught by Perry Garfinkel in May through Field's End. If any of these events sound like fun to you, please visit www.fieldsend.org for more information.

The Power of Love (or Serendipity)

On Thursday, David and I traveled to Seattle to meet a photographer and a representative of Seattle Children's Hospital's Guild Association. I had been asked to to coordinate a comforter delivery with a story which will be published in the Guild News (a regular publication of the Guild Association. By the way, if you don't know about the Guild Association, please follow this link and look around. It is a fabulous organization of which I am thrilled to be a member). I will post a link to the photos and article when they are published.

David came with me on the spur of the moment. We brought a batch of gorgeous quilts from the Fearless Quilters of Rolling Bay Presbyterian, along with a batch of fleece blankets from our dear neighbor, Cami - 28 in all. As we pulled into the driveway, I said to David, "I should have called Carly, and told her we were coming!" Carly is our representative at the Foundation, where Katie's Endowment resides.

The fact is, there are so many staffers within the organization of Seattle Children's Hospital who have touched our lives and blessed us that I would probably need to visit every week in order to see each of them - so I often don't tell anyone when I am coming, and just slip in and out delivering quilts. On this day, I was focused on the photo shoot, thinking we would meet in the reception area, hold the comforters and smile for the camera. Well, serendipity was at work behind the scenes...

We took the comforters to the Volunteer Office, and there was one of my favorite volunteers: Jane Humphries, a.k.a. "The Blanket Lady." Jane volunteers every week, delivering comforters to patients who have been admitted to the hospital. She was loading a cart, and brightened up when she saw the bounty we had brought for her to deliver. We learned that Jane was going to be part of the photo shoot, and that we were going to be allowed to go on the ward and actually GIVE a blanket to a patient. This just doesn't happen anymore, due to HIPAA regulations, so this was a rare treat.

Seattle Children's has a fantastic new facility called "Building Hope." Its design is gorgeous and family-friendly in the most progressive ways, filled with light, beautiful artwork, well-designed, attractive furnishings and comfortably-equipped rooms. It is a wonderful place - that is, if you have to be a patient in a hospital. I had a quick tour a while ago, but David had never seen it. That was our destination for the photo shoot - a nice surprise.

The photographer and manager of Guild Marketing arrived. As we were getting acquainted, Carly walked into the Volunteer Office - serendipity! She and David had never met, so I happily took care of that. She revealed that she was expecting a "special visitor" to tour the hospital with her, and was going to be in the same area as we were. Looking forward to running into them later, we said "goodbye" and prepared to deliver quilts and blankets.

Please visit #strongagainstcancer on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter

We took some #strongagainstcancer photos before we entered the cancer unit. #STRONGAGAINSTCANCER is a new initiative being launched by Seattle Children's Hospital. A BIG announcement will be made during half-time of the NFL Thanksgiving Day football game. Please be sure to tune in!

Once we were admitted to the ward, we noticed a number of the staff who had taken care of Katie were on duty. Many hugs followed, with exclamations of surprise at seeing David, "all grown up." The nurses posed for photos with us around the cart, each one holding a blanket. What a beautiful, full-circle moment that was - to see our comforters in the hands of staff members who have brought such comfort to our family!

There was so much palpable love in the air that I kept saying, "This is the best day ever!" Then I thought about it and said, "Well, this is the best day on the cancer ward." And it got even better...

We were introduced to a lovely young patient who selected a pink fleece blanket with owls on it, and we posed together, with me handing it to her. As our eyes met, and I looked at her sweet mother standing behind her, something deep within me connected with them. I longed to join them in the room and just stay there; of course, that wasn't possible, and I would not have suggested such a thing, but I felt a kinship with them, without words. I have been in their place.

The serendipity continued when we ran into Carly and her "special guest:" it was Macklemore, at the hospital to visit patients. (You may have seen him on Instagram or Facebook in photos at the hospital with Russell Wilson, who visits every.single.week.) Carly invited us over to meet him and his friend, so WE MET MACKLEMORE on the cancer ward! I thanked him for visiting the hospital and told him how much it means to the patients and families. We spoke for a few minutes about the blankets; he has noticed them on his visits. He was so present as we spoke. (He has also been out on the streets at night, without fanfare, with Seattle's Union Gospel Mission - another reason for admiring him.) Oh, serendipity was at work - and David just happened to be along for the ride!

We also had a wonderful visit over lunch with one of our favorite doctors - one who has become a close friend, and who took care of all of us when Katie was in the ICU.

Lying in bed last night, I reflected on the day with overflowing gratitude. My one regret was that I wished I could have done more for that sweet patient and her mother, but I also know that I am living their worst nightmare, so I always - and I mean ALWAYS - stay away from people who are in active treatment, unless they seek me out. I wasn't at the hospital as a chaplain, I was there as a guild president, for a specific purpose, but oh, my heart was there in pastoral care!

What a day, filled with the power of love - of Katie's love for her comforter, our family's love and gratitude, the love of staff and benefactors, our guild member's loving acts of generosity, and the appreciative love of the hospital organization for its guild members. And what is serendipity, anyway - isn't it really LOVE in action?

Camp Goodtimes West, June 2012

One of Katie's favorite faces to make, when Mooselips pulled out his camera, Camp Goodtimes West 2007

I spent yesterday volunteering in the Arts and Crafts shack at Camp Goodtimes West on Vashon Island. I try to do something for camp each year, as a way of giving back in gratitude for all that camp did for Katie, and does for other children living with cancer. As the years go by (it has been 5 years since Katie & David attended camp), I appreciate more and more what camp is, and what it did for Katie and David. I can see for myself why she asked us to scatter her ashes there.

Some people refer to Camp Goodtimes as "the happiest place on earth." While I believe there's a famous theme park whose PR claims that as their tagline, I'd like to have those PR people visit Camp Goodtimes West and weigh in on it; I think camp might win the designation.

If you've read my book, or read my postings here on the subject, you'll recall that Katie didn't want to go to camp at all. At all. AT ALL. For her to change her mind so completely about it as to ask us to scatter her ashes there, and for the camp staff to not only welcome us to do that, but to assist us in such a sacred and heart-rending step, tells you a little something about the people and the place.

This year, I went through some of our own craft supplies and donated things which I know we won't be using anymore. It felt good to send those things to camp so that other children could enjoy them. Rubber stamps, stickers, scrapbooking supplies, origami supplies, markers, pencils, crayons, all went into a box and off to camp.

I've posted this video of Katie at camp with Mooselips before, but it's worth posting again, in case you missed it. And this one, which shows a little bit of what the camp experience is like.

Everyone on staff (and the volunteers, too) has a camp name. Mine is "Truffle." You never refer to other staff or volunteers by their given name, even if you know them well in "real" life. I love to see staff who knew Katie and David as campers, and am always warmly greeted by them. This means a lot to me, and I appreciate it.

Yesterday was Carnival Day. In the morning, we had kids coming in to work on craft projects such as lannies, backpacks, hats, fleece pillows, clay piggy banks, bracelets and duct tape crafts. I LOVED helping the kids with their projects (and I can see I need a refresher on lannies). It has taken a few years of volunteering to get over my shyness at camp, and I enjoyed a greater feeling of ease this time. I loved being called "Truffle" by the kids when they wanted assistance with something.

There are 3 wonderful women who are in charge of crafts this year, and it was a pleasure to work with them. We had a lot of laughs. One of them, Rocksie, is a treasure - a mentor and trusted friend, though we only see each other once a year. Rocksie read the draft of my book before it was published, and is always ready to lend an ear (and a few choice, pithy words) to me. I love her! Rocksie & Ginger and I went out to lunch after morning crafts, and before the carnival started. It was so good to catch up with them.

One camper stood out to me from the others, because she was in Katie's cabin in 2007. She is a cancer survivor, and there she was, 5 years later, healthy, smiling, taking part in everything I saw and doing well. It took my breath away to reflect that two campers can be in the same cabin, and one can die within a few weeks of camp, while the other goes on to live a happy, healthy life. I wondered if Katie would have wanted to go back to camp year after year, if she had lived. I can't have the answer to that question, but I'm very glad indeed that her cabin-mate was there and enjoying life. It's always good to see survivors!

The carnival is hard to describe in words; you really have to be there to get the picture. This was my first time experiencing it. There is a grassy field at camp which is set up with a large tent for hairdressing, an inflatable jumping house, softly padded jousting equipment, a table for face-painting, cotton candy, snow cones; there is loud music, dancing, a huge whipped cream fight, a slip & slide and the local fire department's truck (which obligingly gently hoses everyone down after the whipped cream fight and creates the slip & slide area). There are safe areas for kids who are medically fragile, so no one has to engage in more than they are comfortable experiencing, and lots of staff supervision. I saw kids who were barely able to stand or see being tenderly supported by staff so that they could participate in a gentle version of the whipped cream fight. No one is left out, but nothing is forced. In 2007 Katie had her hair done, but declined the whipped cream fight and the slip & slide.

Here is Katie at the carnival in 2007 with one of her counselors:

Once she realizes Mooselips is taking her photo, she resorts to "the hand"

 Newspaper article about Camp, featuring a photo of Katie getting her hair done at the carnival

At the dance, with rainbow hair still intact...

She again resorts to "the hand" to ward off the "Mooserazzi"

Here is my picture at camp after the carnival yesterday:

Thanks for making a wonderful new name tag for me, Rocksie!

Close-up of my carnival hairdo, courtesy of Gene Juarez Salons' hairdressers, who volunteer at the carnival each year. After 3 shampoos, it's still a little pink on top.

If you ever have the opportunity to volunteer for a camp like Camp Goodtimes West, or to donate to it, I strongly encourage you to do so. You'll have a blast, and you will come away inspired.

I'm grateful to our dear friend, Mooselips, for suggesting (hounding, encouraging, pushing) us to send our kids to camp!

Nurses ROCK!

Want to see what AWESOME looks like? Check this out:
This is the SCCA cancer ward, where Katie was treated, where we lived for weeks and months in 2006, in the hospital where we stayed for her surgery and recovery after all five rounds of chemotherapy. These are the halls we walked, the rooms we inhabited, and (some of) the nurses who took care of our girl...and Kelly Clarkson (the singer) just tweeted about the video:
"Oh my goodness y'all have to see this! It's beautiful! I can't wait to visit these kids and nurses! It's Seattle Children's Hospital, I believe. God Bless y'all!"

Nurses ROCK! Thanks to every one of you, especially those who took care of our daughter!

"Love is the Ultimate & Highest Goal"

Katie's hospice nurse, Amy, has a blog. Amy's recent posting took my breath away. She has a way of walking with those who are dying, and their families, that is peaceful, respectful, understanding, sacred, serious and light at the same time. I consider Amy (and many of the other nurses we've met) to be angels on earth - literally.

This quote from Viktor Frankl, a holocaust survivor (which Amy featured in her posting) holds a deep truth which expresses my way of seeing and being, so I will reprint part of it here:

“A thought transfixed me: for the first time in my life I saw the truth as it is set into song by so many poets, proclaimed as the final wisdom by so many thinkers. The truth – THAT LOVE IS THE ULTIMATE AND THE HIGHEST GOAL TO WHICH MAN CAN ASPIRE. Then I grasped the meaning of the greatest secret that human poetry and human thought and belief have to impart: The salvation of man is through love and in love. I understood how a man who has nothing left in this world still may know bliss, be it only for a brief moment, in the contemplation of his beloved. In a position of utter desolation, when man cannot express himself in positive action, when his only achievement may consist in enduring his sufferings in the right way – an honorable way – in such a position man can, through loving contemplation of the image he carries of his beloved, achieve fulfillment."*

*from: Frankl, Viktor E., Man's Search for Meaning, Washington Square Press, Simon and Schuster, New York, 1963.

Interviews

The past two weeks have been a whirlwind of activity, veering back and forth between fast and slow, and packed with significance. It is still hard to believe some days that this is my life.

Two Mondays ago, Paul and I went to Seattle Children's Hospital to interview two staff members: Karen, a chaplain, and Dr. Cohen, the heart surgeon, both of whom were very important in Katie's cancer journey.

Karen Taliesin is a gifted minister, open to all kinds of spirituality, who brings love and peace into the room when she enters. She was a lifeline to me in the hospital - a representative of God's loving, courageous, humorous presence in the midst of the craziness that is pediatric cancer. She was one of the few people whose presence was acceptable to Katie, and who brought peace. Those 10 months would have been much darker without Karen. She consented to be interviewed on camera, and it was a pleasure to be with her again and hear what she has to say.

Dr. Gordon Cohen is a brilliant pediatric heart surgeon. He removed the part of the tumor which was in Katie's heart. Discovering that her entire inferior vena cava was full of tumor and had to be removed, he re-fashioned a connection for her blood to flow using her own tissue. He repairs the hearts of the tiniest infants, too, and he does it very well indeed.

Dr. Cohen agreed to speak with us on camera, but instead of beginning our session at 10:00 A.M., he was called into surgery, and was delayed until 2:00 P.M. There are not a lot of people in the world who can do what he does, so when he is called, he goes to help. And we were glad to wait for him; we feel strongly that videotape is not as important as pediatric heart surgery!

Dr. Cohen spoke to us candidly for 45 minutes on camera, and for some time afterward, off-camera. He took me right back to Katie's surgery, and it was painful, but for the purposes of our video, it was vitally important. The same feelings arose when listening to Dr. Waldhausen - I was back with Katie, and her life was in grave danger - but she was still alive, with hope for recovery. It is hard to re-visit those memories.

Yesterday, Paul and I interviewed our last subject: Amy, Katie's wonderful hospice nurse. Amy brought peace and comfort into our lives when all hope for recovery had receded, replaced by prayers for mercy, love and an easy death. Our prayers were answered, with God's (and Amy's) help.

As I sat with Amy, her words took me right back to the days of Katie's dying - the four weeks of uncertainty, and the painful steps involved in accepting that we had to let Katie go as easily as we could. Reading and signing the "Do Not Resuscitate" form. Learning about medications we hoped we would never have to use. Facing each day with the purpose to be and provide whatever Katie needed, no matter what happened.

At one point, I thought I was going to be sick. It came over me suddenly, a wave of deep nausea, and I had to pray to get through it without vomiting, as the cameras were rolling and Amy was speaking. It passed, but the feeling shocked me. After four years, the power of those events is buried in my psyche and my body on a deep level. I do not re-visit Katie's dying process in detail in my mind. Going through it once was horrific, yet sacred; remembering it in detail yesterday was just plain horrific...but it is worth it, to do this work.

We are thankful to each interviewee for his/her time, dedication and generosity of spirit in remembering these events and sharing his/her thoughts and feelings about it, more than four years later. Now, we move on to the editing of all of these pieces.

Through the process of listening to others, I have been gifted with many deep truths and passionate feelings in their words. This work raises many questions in me, and it stirs a desire to ask more questions and listen more deeply to those who accompany us in our darkest moments. They possess a wealth of knowledge and experience that cannot be duplicated, and it deserves to be preserved and heard. Who knows where the path leads next? I can only leave that up to God and take the step that is right in front of me now.

Easter and After

We had a wonderful Easter weekend. I hope you did, too.

David arrived home on Thursday evening, in time for dinner. On Friday, we had the privilege of hosting Dr. Michael Jensen and his lovely wife for dinner here, with our neighbors. Our neighbor (the husband) is an immunologist, and his wife is a cancer survivor. It was a fun and lively evening, and I am so thankful that we were able to break bread together.

David wanted to go to the beach for a hike, so on Saturday (the one warm day we've had this spring), we took a drive to a favorite beach, and set out for about 6 miles with a picnic lunch.

On Sunday, we took my parents with us to my brother and sister-in-law's home for brunch. It was great to be together for a family feast.

David returned to school on Monday, and we hosted Gregg's parents for dinner that night. Since then, I have been writing and editing all week, and yesterday, I FINISHED MY ROUGH DRAFT of the Family-Centered Care transcript - 83+ pages! Now, I have to edit the draft, pick out the most important themes, and add photographs. Phew! I feel as if I've given birth - but not exactly like that, because there is so much more to do. However, I need to enjoy and celebrate this little milestone in the present moment.

THIS article tells about the dear nurse who died by suicide. I have decided that, since I brought the topic up here, I will share what I have learned since. The article, and more background, were posted by THIS blogger, who is new to me. She did a good job of reporting what she knew. I believe that those who appreciate and support the doctors and nurses who do their best to care for others on a daily basis may find it interesting. Having said that, I need to add that I love our doctors and nurses, and I love Seattle Children's Hospital; I am not passing judgment. I am grieving the course of events, beginning with the death of precious Kaia, that has led to another family's bereavement.

May this season of Easter, and the hope that it offers, bless you. As Father Rohr says,

"The defining pattern for the entire universe is death and resurrection, loss and renewal. There are no exceptions. This pre-announcement is good news for us, if we can hear it...Gospel confirms the redemptive pattern that is transforming all things, and keeps the entire circle of life circling. Nothing will be left to finally and forever die. Now we can trust what seems like a free fall into absurdity.

"We are all living and dying in the same universal pattern, and we need not be shocked, surprised, or waste time trying to change or deny the dying of all things...Stephen Levine said that our fear of death comes from 'our imagined loss of our imagined individuality.' Both imaginings are untrue. There is no loss, only a return to the deepest Ground of our Being. What feels like a free fall is in fact a leap into the one and only Life." - Adapted from Great Themes of St. Paul: Life as Participation

Thank God for the hope of our eventual return to that "deepest Ground of our Being," which I believe to be LOVE.

To Find God & Grace Inside the Wounds

"You will be wounded. Your work is to find God and grace inside the wounds. This is why Jesus told Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side” (John 20:27). Thomas was trying to resolve the situation mentally, as men usually do, so Jesus had to force direct physical contact with human pain—the pain of Jesus, Thomas’ capacity for empathy with that pain, and very likely with Thomas’ own denied pain. Deep healing has to happen corporeally and emotionally, and not just abstractly.

"Jesus wanted Thomas to face and feel in his body the tragedy of it all—and then know it was not tragedy at all! In that order. That is how wounds become sacred wounds. This is the pattern of all authentic conversion in the Christian economy of grace: not around, not under, not over, but through the wound we are healed and saved."  - Richard Rohr, from On the Threshold of Transformation: Daily Meditations for Men, p. 256, day 247 (Used with permission of Loyola Press)

Thank you for your encouraging words yesterday.

I was supposed to have an appointment in the city, but it was cancelled, so I stayed at home. After a while, I decided to give up the struggle to get anything of substance done, and decided to just allow myself to be sad, to grieve. It's been a while since I had a day when I felt as if I was sliding downhill, and I could tell that nothing was going to work. I exercised, ate, read, prayed, but I was still sliding backward faster than I could walk forward out of it. I thought, The only thing to do is sew blankets for the hospital, so I set up my sewing area. And then, I couldn't even sew.

It dawned on me that I needed two things: a hot bath and a good book. So that's what I gave to myself, in that order. I took a long, hot, scented bath. I gave my feet some needed attention. And then I sat on the couch and read The Pioneer Woman's "From Black Heels To Tractor Wheels," from cover to cover, which I had purchased as a gift for my mother. Go ahead and laugh if you want to. It helped. I took a day of rest - a sick day - and allowed myself to be simply be sad. I was as gentle as I could be with myself, as if I was sick - because I was; I was sick with grief.

Today, I got up and read this quote from Father Rohr, and I know he is right. To fight grief is to push it away, and it won't go away. To face it and feel it, to allow yourself to go through it, like the labor that takes over your body when a baby needs to come out and be born, seems to be the only way to find God and grace in the midst of the sorrow. It seems to be the only way through it, so as not to get stuck in it. It may be counter-intuitive, to believe that going into it will allow you to move through and out of it, but I don't see any other way.

I think I am nearly ready to write a letter to her family now.

"In my distress I called upon the Lord, and he heard my voice.

I love you, O LORD, my strength...
The breakers of death surged round about me,
the destroying floods overwhelmed me;
The cords of the nether world enmeshed me,
the snares of death overtook me.
In my distress I called upon the Lord, and he heard my voice.
From his temple he heard my voice,
and my cry to him reached his ears." - Psalm 18

Tribute to a Good Nurse

This is not a happy posting, in case you need a warning. If you are looking for cheer today, it's not here.

I learned yesterday that one of the dear nurses who took care of Katie (after her big surgery) has died.
I learned that she died from suicide.
She died from suicide, several months after an accidental medical error which resulted in the death of a small child.
The media had a field day with the error, after it was revealed. They came down like a ton of bricks on the hospital - and by implication, on the nurse (whose identity was never revealed to the public, including me).
I did not know that it was the dear woman who took such loving care of Katie, and us.
The nurse who shares Katie's birthday.
Who came into work on her day off, their birthday, to bring gifts to Katie, though Katie was still mostly unconscious, at that point.
The one who gave warm encouragement to us, and brought humor to her work.
The loving mother of two children.
That nurse.
I am devastated for her, for her family, for her children.
Her death will not alleviate the pain of the family of the child who died as the result of the dosing error.
Her death will not undo the mistake.
Her death is another tragedy in an already tragic story.
I have been depressed and tearful since I learned about it.
I wish I had known, just so that I could send her a card, a letter, anything - to remind her of how much her skill and care had blessed our family. I wish I had known, so that I could have encouraged her, as she encouraged me, in the dark days.
It's not that I think I could have saved her...but I wish I could have been present for her, to hold the light, even in a small way, as she did for us.
I wish I could have lifted even just a bit of her pain.
If you are a praying person, please pray for this precious woman's family, and for the hospital staff.
Thank you.

Brooke in Haiti

Brooke & Katie, Camp Goodtimes West, June 2007

One of the nurses who took care of Katie in the hospital, and who was later on staff when David and Katie went to Camp Goodtimes West, is Brooke. Brooke has moved to Haiti to help the people to whom she has given her heart. She has a blog, which she calls "Babbling Brooke;" she updates it when she can, between working in an orphanage/school/hospital. I encourage you to check it out, particularly this recent posting. Her love, her passion, her committment, her spirituality - all come shining through her words and photographs.

We were so very blessed to have Brooke caring for Katie. God bless her, and the people of Haiti who she loves so much.

Christmas 2006 & Happy News in 2009

In 2006, Katie spent Christmas Eve and part of Christmas Day in the hospital (and so did we). She was finishing up a round of chemotherapy, and she knew that she would feel better on intravenous anti-nausea medications than she would if we had to give them to her through her NG (nasogastric) tube at Ronald McDonald House. She elected to stay in the hospital as long as she could, to have more effective drugs, thus keeping her stomach happy longer, and being more comfortable, overall.

My sister, David and I went to Michael's Craft Store in the days preceding Christmas, to buy supplies for making a wreath, and two small trees for the kids to decorate. We brought Katie's tree to the hospital with us, after we decorated it at Ronald McDonald House. It's barely visible in the photo above; it brightened up the room, but it was still Christmas in a hospital room.

On Christmas Eve, Santa came with LOTS of gifts for all of the children. One of Katie's favorite nurses (Shauna, seen here with Santa) was taking care of her, so that helped to make Christmas Eve better. It wasn't a good way to spend Christmas Eve, but it was bearable.

Gregg's side of the family gathered in Poulsbo, and David went to be with them. We felt that he would have more fun there than he would with us in the hospital. He did.

David with cousin Joey and Mike.

David with cousin Joseph; cousin Kate is in the background.

David with Mike.

We moved Katie back to Ronald McDonald House on Christmas Day. My side of the family gathered with us in Seattle.

My brother, Jim, with me at RMcDH, 12.25.06. Note the ever-present pink bucket atop the armoire - one of many.

Gregg, me and my mom in our room at Ronald McDonald House, Christmas Day, 2006.

Back to Katie's nurse, Shauna: she has a wonderful temperament: calm, funny, intelligent, quick-witted, easy-going, unflappable, and kind. Shauna took wonderful care of Katie, and related very well to David, too.

Now, here is the happy news:  Shauna has become a MOTHER! We are thrilled for her. She has a blog about her journey to adopt her daughter from Ethiopia (on my sidebar: "My Greatest Adventure"). We wish them a delightful first Christmas together!